


my own two hands will comfort you

by valkyrierising



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Tag, F/M, Heavy Angst, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8338081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/pseuds/valkyrierising
Summary: He’s not entirely sure what to make of it, but she dropped a post-it note inside the bag. A hasty scribble of finding a lead and going to check it out. He balls it into his pocket and hopes she doesn’t do anything bordering on reckless endangerment of oneself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I will write something that isn't these two; today is not that day and tomorrow doesn't look so hot either. Something based off 4x04 and the promo for 4x05. The title comes from the fray's 'say when.'

She kind of bailed on him, for her own sake, but she didn’t expect him here, standing across from her in the hallway. With a chain in hand, getting James away from her and Simmons.

 

“He’s a new one?” Jemma asks as they rush out. She shrugs in response.

 

“It’s complicated,” she says, holding the makeshift sling together as they join Mack and Coulson in the front. The thud reminds them of their current situation, Robbie fighting off James and the fireworks store. She thinks she hears Mack let out an impressive string of curses under his breath while they get the hell away and watch as the place goes up in literal fireworks. They watch, concern and slightly dazzled by the show going on above.

 

Robbie comes out like a ghost, dragging something behind him. She steels herself as he comes up to her and Coulson.

 

“You said alive didn’t you?” He says, unhooking the chain from James and walking away. He holds her eyes for the longest second before going, exhaling in response. The rest of them watch as Jemma looks over James, ushering them onto the Zephyr that’s nearby.

 

++++

 

There’s a connection between all of them. Robbie feels an outsider, watching the English girl and the big guy fuss over her. She shakes them off but despite it, they crowd over her and work on her arm. Whatever she was running from, it couldn’t be as bad as she thought. She had all these people fighting for her, looking out for her. He comes to an understanding that this weird covert operation was a family.

 

“Well you certainly inspire… loyalty,” Jemma says as she keeps her arm to make sure the damage wasn’t any deeper. Even though she was a rogue agent, she was her friend, and it hurt seeing her friend in pain that she could easily take care of. Mack raises an eyebrow, nods in agreement as she huffs.

 

“It’s not like that,” she says, hissing as Jemma prods a particularly sore spot.

 

“Sorry!” She winces apologetically, Mack checking the rest of her vitals. He leaves quietly, the hurt inside Daisy constricting a bit as the door shuts. “But I am glad you have someone looking out for you.” She sneaks a look behind her.

 

“We miss you. Mack does too.”

 

“Jem,” she begins and Jemma shushes her in response.

 

“I know your reasons thank you very much. But we do miss you. We know that last year wasn’t the best for you, but it’s not like it was roses for the rest of us. We are here for you, if you let us.”

 

“I can’t.” Jemma grumbles something inaudible as she fixes up the rest of her arm. “It’s mostly patched up. We’re, well, we’re always here.” In a black pouch, she puts a few of the arm bands that reduces the pain in her arm, and medication, pressing a kiss to her forehead before motioning her to get up.

 

“She’s one of yours?” Robbie asks Coulson as he waits in the hangar. He feels a bit like he’s getting chastised, which is an odd sensation to be feeling. Coulson though has a secret agent and a dad vibe on him that throws him off, uncertain of what to say.

 

“One of my best agents,” Coulson says, not looking up from his tablet. Though he does smile and Robbie is astounded at Daisy Johnson, and the martyr complex she has going on that she would give up this wider network to do some good just to go it alone. Of course, he doesn’t know anything about her besides her persistence. She didn’t leave him alone, and she still fought off the other guys hunting what she called 'Inhumans' down. There’s palpable awkward tension between her and the rest of these agents. It only just hits him now that Coulson doesn’t say ‘was’ regarding Daisy as an agent, and looks up when he hears her wander in with English in tow.

 

“Not exactly a clean bill of health, but she’s clear to go out.” Turning to Robbie, she takes in a breath and says what’s on her mind. “I don’t know you, but you kept an eye out for her and you’re here which means for whatever reason, you’re on our side. Look out for her.” She says sternly, an unspoken 'or else' in the way she manages a glower at him before turning to leave.

 

“Well,” Coulson says. “We need your help. This isn’t a request; it’s a demand. In exchange, we can negotiate Uncle Eli a lower sentence.” He turns to Daisy who shakes her head in response. “We’ll discuss after. But we need to find the Darkhold and you two have particular expertise that can help us.”

 

Robbie rubs at his eyebrows, trading a look with Daisy as she looks up from the tablet.

 

“Fine. But I don’t report to your agents. You need me, she’s my partner.” Daisy turns, tilting her head at him. It was as simple as they had forged a connection, and he never really liked working with anyone. At least with Daisy, he knew she could give back just as hard. Coulson doesn’t even hesitate, simply looks at Daisy as he responds.

 

“Done. Let’s get to work,” Coulson motions for an agent to open the hangar for them to get out. They walk in silence, the big guy looking at her with sad eyes and turns a look of discomfort at him. He can’t necessarily blame him.  

 

“You didn’t have to do that, like at all,” she says, pulling away from him as they make it down the street. He slows down steps from the Charger, looking at the Zephyr from the corner of his eye.

 

“Why’d you leave?” He thinks she’ll take it personally, think he’s wondering about her leave of SHIELD. They’re not close but even he knows there’s places you don’t pry. She can keep that one to herself. But, he did want to know what exactly would cause an injured anyone to leave somewhere safe.

 

“I don’t stay where I’m not wanted,” she says coolly, walking by. There’s a beat of silence that passes, the click of her boots mixing in with the sound of the traffic streets around them. He can’t help it; he laughs. She stops dead in her tracks, an inquisitive glare on her face as she turns.

 

“Gabe scared you off?” He asks, respect for her growing as she took Gabe’s word seriously.

 

“He’s a good kid.” She responds.

 

“I’m glad he’s looking out for me, but did he really? And you listened?”

 

“I don’t go in between family,” she sighs, turn to him with a gesture at her arm to speed it along. “Besides, he looks after you. Can’t really fault him given that I’m on the news a lot more often, not always positively.”

 

“You’re not going anywhere with that arm,” he says, leaning across the hood to point to the passenger’s side.

 

“Says who?”

 

“Says your girl English. I don’t go in between family either and something tells me if I disobeyed her orders, she would do major damage to anyone that hurt you.”

 

“That’s Jemma for you,” she shrugs. “I’m not gonna impose on you. Seriously,” she turns on her heel, remembering what Coulson told her that they moved her van to a nearby parking lot.

 

“I don’t save just anyone,” he calls, a snort working out from her as she continues retreating.

 

“I know. Which is incredibly weird, but you wouldn’t have to show up if I didn’t help speed up the ruining his life part.”

 

“We make our own choices Daisy. You of all people should know this by now.” She bites the bottom of her lip, a retort quick on her lips but she’s stumped. She’s tired; thinking of everything she’s lost, everything she’s helped speed up the collapse of, it weighs on her like an albatross. But Robbie’s not gonna leave, and shaking him off isn’t an option. She turns, rolling her eyes as he swings the Charger keys in his hand, and gets back into his car for the second time that week.  

 

When they arrive, she’s fallen asleep against the windshield of the Charge. He presses his knuckles to the side of her cheek to wake her up, lashes fluttering as she looks around.

 

“We’re here. Give me the keys to your van so I can pick them up tomorrow.” She pulls the keys from her pocket and gets out, stumbling the slightest as the disorientation from the sleep works itself out. Opening the house door, she follows him in closing it with the back of her boot.

 

“I’ve got the couch, save it,” she says before he can open his mouth. “I’m a guest here, and it’s totally fine.” Gabe’s in the kitchen doing some work, looks up at the sound of her voice and narrows his eyes.

 

“Hey,” Robbie says, tossing his keys onto the counter. “She’s good enough for me.” Gabe passes her another glare when Robbie has his back turned. Daisy’s amused at the kid’s resolve and also the slightest bit cowed. She holds her hands up in a plea, looking back to Robbie and shaking her head. Once more he narrows his eyes at her before turning back to his work.

 

“Coffee?” He asks, filling a kettle and placing it on stove.

 

“Why not?” She responds, sitting down on the couch just as Gabe slams his book shut and leaves.

 

“You two are gonna have to be nice,” he says at the sound of Gabe wheeling towards his room.

 

“It’s honestly - He has a point.” She tells him, getting an eyeroll in return. “I could turn out to be a serial killer.”

 

“You’ve seen your share of shit, but you haven’t turned cruel.” It shuts her up for the time being. They take their coffee silently, passing the coffee and sugar in between and thinking of tonight. He came back for her. It wasn’t something he did all that often - rescuing. That was her wheelhouse. But, he couldn’t necessarily let her get taken out of commission, even without the knowledge that she was technically his handler now. For better or for worse, he considered Daisy one of his own. She stares off into the distance, hair brushed against her ear. He doesn’t know what to say so when she yawns, he leaves to get the extra blankets and a pillow out for her.

 

Despite the coffee, she rinses the cup out and crashes cold on the couch. He turns the light off after her.

 

++++

 

He learns three things about her in the time she’s with him:

 

She doesn’t sleep as often as she should, the day he saved her from the other man on fire the exception not the norm. Awake before even he was, the swiftness of her fingers against a keyboard serve as a type of white noise to his room.

 

She takes her coffee black, with at least one spoonful of sugar. He doesn’t question her taste, but he wonders if she’ll ever find the peace in the way she’s always looking into the distance.

 

She’s far too good for her own good, working on the side as she does the tasks Coulson set for them to find the Darkhold with him. She continues moonlighting as a vigilante, just as he continues his night shift duties but occasionally follows her as backup. The pain she used as a cloak decreased thanks to whatever English gave help her, but he still follows her just in case.

 

He finds that when Daisy’s not off in her own head, drifting to whatever haunts her, she makes a good companion. They don’t need to talk a lot, nods and body movement filling that in. She’s still spooked by the Ghost but she eases into it. He has a pretty decent deal with it barring the eternity thing. It recognizes Daisy as an ally.

 

Still. It’s a hard thing to ask anyone else to adjust to.

 

She shows up at the garage the next day, but he doesn’t see her. She left a bag for him, burger, fries and a drink while the other guys at the garage give him shit. He’s not entirely sure what to make of it, but she dropped a post-it note inside the bag. A hasty scribble of finding a lead and going to check it out. He balls it into his pocket and hopes she doesn’t do anything bordering on reckless endangerment of oneself.

 

“She’s just a friend,” he tells the guys, who give him simultaneous ‘bullshit’ looks. He shakes his head because hell if he knew what they had. Handler and operative? Friends? Secret vigilante coworkers?

 

Her lead’s a bust. When he comes back home, he sees another nasty cut over her cheek and icing her shoulder. But, for the most part, she was okay.

 

++++

 

It works like this - Daisy takes the couch, and when she’s not triangulating where exactly the Darkhold is at, she looks out for Gabe. He doesn’t have the conversation he wanted to with Gabe, but he hopes he can work through it (he kept Daisy along; Gabe wasn’t her fan. When they were set on something, it was a bit hard to shake them. They were a stubborn pair of brothers, Uncle Eli voicing as much to them many times.)

 

Robbie still has work, so she makes sure that Gabe comes back safe. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and she’s pretty sure the kid is plotting her demise (not that she wouldn’t deserve it) but they fall into a weird, if quiet, pattern around each other. She doesn’t try small talk until he shuts the radio off in the van one day and she almost freezes.

 

“What’s up?” She says, hitting the brakes as they get to a busy intersection.

 

“What are you up to?”

 

“Nothing,” she says, which is the honest truth she can give to the kid; she can’t necessarily divulge SHIELD secrets. “Your brother completely dragged me back. I even gave him times to get out.”

 

Gabe’s silent, and the light goes green. She doesn’t know what goes on in his head, but she thinks that he’s taking in what she said about Robbie dragging her back that he warms up the slightest.

 

“I like comics,” he says, breaking the silence once more. Nodding, she pulls up her phone at the next stop to find a comic store nearby. She loads the chair out, helping him onto it. The silence is less awkward in the quiet of the store, which is a start. Robbie loves Gabe, and Gabe clearly adores Robbie. She feels weird intruding on them, her otherness as someone who could potentially endanger them whereas Robbie still had anonymity hangs over her like a guillotine the more she spends time with them. And yet, here she was, still with the Reyes boys. She helps Gabe navigate the store and grabs the higher ones he wants. There’s still weirdness but Gabe doesn’t seem to want to stab her, which is a pretty big leap in her opinion.

 

She walks a fine line with Robbie though, getting used to where the man ended and where the Ghost began. He’s her partner, and she had to adjust to him. It helps that Robbie’s pretty decided on her, but she’s uncertain of the Ghost. She’s seen monsters, been there herself. At this point she can’t help but rub at her forehead because _of course_ wouldn’t there be another guy who can conjure flames at will set in her path. The plus side was he wasn’t possessed which is unfortunate that this is a standard, but baby steps. Robbie Reyes and his stupid Charger crashed into path, someone who was more or less in the same morally grey area.

 

He unnerved her; She wasn’t one to be scared easily, especially from the year of hell she had, but her poker face got better over time. Bravado and indifference becoming useful shields. The most absurd image of her at St. Agnes comes to her, a warning from the nuns to not kick the hornet’s nest, to not hit Billy with a rock when he had decided Matt was an easy target. She never really outgrew that phase, but there was a difference between Billy with a rock and a Ghost Rider with a chain.

 

She works around the Reyes boys, helping out where she can, looking out for Robbie at night because she’d be damned if she tore another family apart. Gabe and her were slower, with her extending her hand in case he ever needed it, helping out with homework or cooking. She wasn’t the most skilled, and Gabe laughed at her very first horrible attempt but he helped.

 

It felt nice, the hollow feeling that spread through her chest slowly abating in the weeks she spends with the Reyes boys. Maybe she wasn’t entirely unforgivable.

 

++++

 

“He judged your soul. He thinks you’re alright,” he tells her one night after a particularly good run over tacos. Standing by the trunk (he’s ridiculous over the car, keeping it pristine to the nth degree), she chokes on her drink slightly, almost dying in a cough attack.

 

“That makes me feel so much better,” she deadpans when she finally regains some air, stealing a piece of carne asada from his taco. She figured as much, given how he didn’t try to go three for three in almost killing her. Baby steps, the voice in her head piped up.

 

“He hasn’t let me down yet.”

 

“Never?” She responds, picking at the foil the tacos came in whilst gazing up at the stars. Popular to contrary belief, California could still get a couple of excellent sights of stars and she always liked that. The not quite darkness of the Los Angeles sky, melding with a couple of dozen twinkling lights. Thoughts of Lincoln punch her in the gut, rubbing at the corner of her eye surreptitiously to hold back the emotion. Robbie doesn’t say anything, his bites quiet in the not-quite silence surrounding their lookout point and the traffic. When she was on her own, she cried looking up at the stars. The grief rolls in slower, but still happens. She clears her throat and walks around, kicking dirt around her as she counts to ten, reigning her breathing in.

 

“Not as long as we’ve been together,” he says, balling the foil as he finishes.

 

“God,” she mutters, back turned. “That’s just weird.”

 

“Rich coming from the girl that quite literally cause earthquakes at her own detriment,” he responds, tossing the trash away. She screws her nose at him when she turns, flicking the balled up piece of foil at him.

 

“You get used to it,” she responds. They sit in silence again as she chokes up remaining grief.

 

“You know,” he begins, watching as she turns back, arms folded. “I don’t think I understand you Daisy. What makes a girl give up doing far more good on board with those other government agents to slum it with me, half on the run?”

 

She’s quiet, bottling up the thoughts of Lincoln, Triplett, and Andrew that invade her. There’s a part of her that says if she tells him, it means he’s part of her team, which means it’s only a matter of time before something happened to him. The emotional albatross chokes her daily, but tonight especially so. It wasn’t meant to be light, but it was exhausting. She couldn’t go home until she was certain that she had served what each of them sacrificed for her. It might never be enough. She didn’t care.

 

“You can’t martyr yourself for every single thing that went wrong.” He adds, moving towards her like one would a wary animal.

 

“No but I can make sure it wasn’t in vain,” she brushes stray strands of hair from her face.

 

“Hurting yourself does nothing. I need you on my team,” she cuts him a look as he shrugs. “I’m serious. English and the big guy are practically hounding us to make sure you’re not hurt.”

 

“You scared of them?” She deflects, hands in pocket as she turns to look at him. In time, she’s realized that Robbie wasn’t a bad guy. The killing was… something to deal with, but did it matter when it was bad people? He was in the same boat as she was. They only hurt the bad people. She trusted him and he trusted her.

 

“I haven’t been afraid of anything in a long time. But they love you. And that kind of loves drives people to their most protective. So what are you running from?”

 

“Ghosts,” she says.

 

She doesn’t want to talk about them, and she needs a distraction. She gets a better thing as she closes the distance between them and drags him down to her. She kisses hard. It’s quick and bruising and not exactly chaste. She tastes sweet, the horchata lingering like lipstick. He feels that he could die in that moment, putting a hand on the back of her head as he leans down into the kiss. Seconds pass, could be minutes, but it ends just as quickly as it happened. Pushing herself off of him, she goes into the passenger’s seat and waits for him.

 

They don’t talk about the kiss as they make their way back to his place, but an electric feeling spreads throughout him as he guns it back home. He doesn’t expect it to go further, but the kiss stays with him longer, refusing to let him sleep.

 

They make it two hours before she heads into his room quietly, sliding into his bed. He’s waiting for her to say something, anything, but she’s just lying in his bed, quiet as she places a hand over his heartbeat.

 

“People I cared about died for me. Sometimes it’s all I think about it,” she whispers to where her hand is on his chest. He doesn’t know what to say besides pull her close to him. There’s a sound of her shaky breathing against his chest, dampness growing on the blanket she pulls between them. She doesn’t cry long, wrapping her arms around him in return. Hours later when the alarm for Gabe goes off, he looks down to see them tangled up together.

 

They don’t talk about last night while he gets ready for work, her barefoot steps quiet as she opens her computer. She presses herself against his side right before he leaves and they stay there, three beats passing before she pulls away. It’s enough for him.

 

++++

 

He’s in a different room, trying to find answers as the riot builds up. He dodges a few blows, knocks two men out with each other when he hears Coulson’s and his other agent yells from the room across from him. The prison room they, along with Daisy, were at seems to have been barricaded with the two of them outside. His first thought is ‘ _Jesus Christ_ ’ and his second thought of ‘ _where the hell is Daisy_.’ Coulson’s yelling indicates she’s on the other side of the door.

 

“Stand back,” he yells to Coulson, letting the Ghost come out. The shift is seamless - the Ghost’s only mission to enact retribution. While he isn’t entirely at the forefront, he still has control and is able to remind the Ghost of Daisy’s presence, of making sure she was alright. The Ghost ignores him, blasting through and heading towards the man choking Daisy out. She blacks out before she can use her powers but the man on her refuses to get off. He’s possessed, frothing at the mouth and eyes gone glassy, and the Ghost claims him, the soul judging instantaneous. He pushes Daisy at the forefront of their concern, watching as she slumps towards the ground. They pick up Daisy, pretty sure that the fire couldn’t harm her (he was hoping it didn’t). He can’t help but see how much of a wisp she looks in his arms, the grey of suit washing her out, making her looks ghostly. He moves towards Coulson.

 

“Zephyr now,” he orders, the four of them leaving the prison in disarray.

 

The sight of Daisy on the makeshift hospital is a concerning sight - while the beginning she wasn’t in the best shape, she never stopped fighting. This wasn’t something he ever wanted to see, her vibrancy dulled. Even under all the black, her presence shone through like a beacon of sunlight. He moves to the medbay to make sure she’s okay, remembering Simmons and Mack’s horrified looks when he came on board with her in his arms. Simmons joins him in the medbay briefly, keeping a distance but still inside.

 

“She’ll make it out. She always does,” she says. He doesn’t have to turn to hear the pain inside or the tears welling in her eyes.

 

“Didn’t keep my promise very well did I?” He tries to make light, knowing that trying to move towards Simmons would spook her. He pulls his gloves off as he walks to the bed, brushing a hand over her forehead. Simmons lets out a choked noise, nodding her head.

 

“All things considering, it could’ve been worse.” She says, hand gripping the neck of her own shirt in fear.

 

Daisy wakes up shortly after, the vitals spiking as she lets out an agonizing cry.

 

Her lungs feel like they’re on fire, body screaming back to life as they register the pain of the last few hours before her blackout. It overloads her for the briefest of moments before sputtering, clutching the nearest thing which happens to be Robbie’s arm. Simmons rushes to her side, handing water to her as she does. Holding the side of Daisy’s bed they watch as she downs the cups and collapses against the bed.

 

“Welcome back to the living,” Simmons says, checking on her vitals. “Gave us quite the scare.”

  
“Sorry,” she rasps out. “I don’t mean to make it a habit.” Simmons shakes her head, tapping her on the forehead twice.

 

“I have to go, but I’ll be right back” she says, presumably to inform Coulson of Daisy’s consciousness.

 

“Do this often?” He says as she leaves the room. She doesn’t let go of his arm, so he grabs a chair in the back with her foot closer. Daisy, for all the pain she’s registering, manages a weak smirk.

  
“She’s seen me too close to dying far too many times, I feel it’s taken a bunch of years off her life. It doesn’t get any easier. Like you, I’ve been shot and stabbed. Unlike you, I don’t have a Ghost protecting me.”

 

“What exactly did we do?” She says, shifting on the bed.

 

“You almost died, same shit.”

 

“Oh,” she laughs, a mirthless thing as she closes her eyes. They don’t say anything, the hand she has on his forearm never leaving. He moves his hand on top of hers while she closes her eyes, the steady beeping filling in the silence they share. It’s enough for the time being.


End file.
